


Close Quarters

by Swordy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Assassin's Festival DLC, Fluff, Gladio is a close second, Humour, Ignis makes the worst puns, M/M, aborted sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 06:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15813267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: In the midst of the Assassin's Festival Gladio and Ignis are returning to The Leville after spending the day looking for Prompto's camera. When they take shelter from an MT it gives them an opportunity for a little alone time.In theory.Written for Gladnis Week Day 7 'Free Day'.





	Close Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> A smidge late posting this for Gladnis Week but I got there in the end. Thank you to everyone who left wonderful comments on my other Gladnis Week fic. You really gave me a boost when I needed it. ❤️

They're still laughing about it hours later.

Ignis glances over at Gladio and even the slightest hint of amusement in the other man’s eyes confirming where his mind is at, is enough to start him laughing all over again. He suspects the reverse is also true, when Gladio looks at him and suddenly starts bubbling with laughter at apparently nothing.

“I can't believe he's such a nerd,” Gladio says for the billionth time between fits of mirth. He's shaking his head as they walk side by side down the alleyway.

“I’m not entirely sure that's an appropriate way to describe the future king, Gladiolus,” Ignis rebukes, even though he's smiling too.

“Oh, come on,” Gladio counters. “We spend all day looking for Prompto’s missing camera and it mysteriously turns up back in the hotel full of selfies of Noct?”

“He does love that assassin’s costume,” Ignis concedes.

Gladio makes an undignified snorting noise. He stops suddenly and strikes a dramatic pose, his expression like it's been carved from stone.

“Nothing is true; everything is permitted,” he growls solemnly, before he can't hold it any longer. He glances over at Ignis to see that he’s laughing too. It’s a good sound.

Gladio may be Noct's shield, but he always has his eye on Ignis too. As a result, Gladio sees the deepening shadows under Iggy's eyes and the tightness of his smile as he attempts to keep them thinking positively and moving forward, despite the rising odds. He knows Ignis wakes early, sitting with his coffee and that little notebook that he uses to help him balance their books.

Out here in the world, they need resources that are not automatically afforded to them. They have little choice but to hunt, but they take nothing on unless Ignis has thoroughly analysed the danger first. He insists that they eat well and have somewhere decent to sleep and has never failed on either count yet, regardless of whatever accounting sorcery he has to do to make it happen. Gladio appreciates his efforts, knows Noct and Prompto do too, but knows he’d be happier if Ignis allowed him to shoulder some of the mental burden as well as the physical one. Getting Ignis to take a night off has been a success, his relaxed laughter the only reward Gladio requires.

They set off again. They're walking back to The Leville, and already twilight is upon them. In the marketplace, the vendors have their oil lamps lit, casting shadows into darkened corners. They're mindful of the MTs that lurk at every turn, even though their disguises give them increased anonymity. The city is bustling, the assassin’s festival in full swing. There's a roar from the crowd several streets over, presumably as another person makes the legendary Leap of Faith.

“My favourite was the one where he’s peering out of the dumpster,” Gladio says as he ducks under a paint-blistered shop sign. “Man, that one was priceless.”

Ignis responds with an indignant huff. “You're not the one tasked with washing the smell of refuse out of his clothes.”

“You hate these costumes, don't you?” Gladio says, plucking at the robes loaned to them, thanks to Cindy's connections in the city.

Ignis is about to respond, to list the many issues he has with these wholly impractical outfits, when he spies an MT, emerging from a darkened alleyway up ahead. He grabs Gladio quickly, and spins them and - mercifully - there's a doorway nearby. They're inside for maybe only half a minute before there’s a shadow under the door and the clunking sound of the MT moving around outside. To be fair, they could have taken it out easily, but they're supposed to be trying to stay under the radar.

Almost simultaneously, they let out a breath. Their hiding space is… cosy, for want of a better description, barely room to accommodate two well-proportioned men. It's a corridor, that's been stacked with crates blocking any alternative exit, so it's little more than a glorified closet space. They're facing each other and if they both exhale at the same time, their chests touch.

“Close,” Ignis says under his breath, studying the thin slice of light coming under the door.

“Uh huh,” comes Gladio’s reply, his grin penetrating the darkness as Ignis looks up. They breathe each other’s air for a few moments, eyes locked.

“And to answer your question,” Ignis says, words carefully enunciated in that low voice that Gladio loves. “I _don't_ hate these costumes. I could never hate anything that looks so good on you.”

Gladio studies him for a moment longer, before he brings his hand up, fingers splayed across Ignis's cheek and neck, drawing him in for a long, deep kiss. Ignis closes his eyes, surrendering totally. It's an age before they come up for air. Gladio then tilts his head slightly, before pressing a line of kisses across Ignis's cheek and down his neck. Involuntarily, Ignis moans softly at the jolt of electricity that travels the length of his spine. The MT and the entire world are forgotten in an instant.

Gladio’s other hand quests upward, past the leather strap that bisects Ignis's chest. Despite the warm Lestallum night, Ignis shivers at the touch of calloused fingers on his bare skin. When they ghost across his nipple, he inhales sharply. He can feel Gladio grinning into the kiss now.

Gladio knows his body intimately, for he is in possession of a memorised road map of areas of interest. Despite this, their physical relationship has never become stale and predictable, with years of experience that they put to good use as often as is practicable. The urgency of Gladio's kisses imply that they’ve gone a little too long since the last time. Ignis lets out a sound that’s almost a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just we're acting like a couple of horny teenagers.”

Gladio snorts. “Who's actin'?”

Now Ignis does laugh. It’s madness to be doing this here, doing this _now_ , but there is so much to be beaten down by with their current situation there’s something gloriously reckless about indulging themselves whilst the mood takes them. The fact that an MT may be standing directly outside their hiding place isn’t lost on him, but with Gladio in close proximity it’s surprisingly easy not to care.

“I want you, Iggy,” Gladio growls, his voice so low Ignis feels it rather than hears it.

He reaches down to cup the bulge in the front of Gladio's trousers. One eyebrow quirks upwards. “I think that much is apparent.”

“Yeah?” Gladio grins. “How about we see how interested _you_ are, huh?”

Naturally, the answer is 'very interested' and his erection twitches at the prospect of discovery. Evidently, however Gladio hasn’t thought this one through - he goes to drop to a crouch and it quickly becomes apparent how little space they have in here as he ends up wedged between the wall at his back, almost headbutting Ignis's midsection in his haste. Warm breath tickles Ignis's bare skin as Gladio exhales loudly in annoyance.

“Are you alright down there?” Ignis asks dryly.

“Awesome.” With a bit of awkward manoeuvring, Gladio manages to stand back up. “Okay. Forget blowjobs.” He rolls his eyes. “This is fuckin' hopeless.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that...” Ignis teases, taking hold of Gladio's wrists and encouraging him to continue what he started north of the border. Gladio quickly takes the hint and returns his attentions to that bared nipple, his other hand seeking out the one hidden under the cloth as he continues to mouth Ignis's throat. For his own part, Ignis insinuates himself between the folds of Gladio’s robes, beneath his waistband until his fingers make contact with Gladio's length.

Gladio moans softly as Ignis starts to make more determined motions. Varying the strength of his grip and the speed of his movements he works Gladio despite the awkward angle and the constraints of clothing, his thumb dragging across the head of Gladio's cock. Lost in the touch, Gladio abandons his own explorations, moving his arms to brace against the wall either side of Ignis's head. Shame. Still, it’s a yardstick of how aroused Gladio is that he’s given up attempting to multitask. It isn't long before the breaths ghosting Ignis's cheek start to quicken.

“Ahh, Iggy,” Gladio groans after a few moments. “You um, maybe need to ease up a little?”

“Oh?”

There’s reluctance, maybe even a hint of embarrassment when Gladio speaks again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I _want_ to, but uh, you remember that time Prompto opened a can of soda, not knowing Noct had been shaking it for about ten minutes beforehand?”

“How could I forget?” Ignis replies, rolling his eyes. “And in that shoebox-sized motel room, too.”

“Uh huh. Well, if you keep goin', there’s a good chance we're gonna recreate that moment. Only minus the soda. I mean, it’s been a while...”

Ignis considers this for a moment. “Maybe if I free you and you turn a little? No - not that way - _that_ way.”

The shuffling and attempted manoeuvring simultaneously kills both the mood and Gladio's boner. However they arrange themselves, it’s not going to work.

“We can’t,” Gladio says morosely. “Whatever we do, it’s gonna be a mess and I’m pretty sure it ain’t what Cindy was thinkin' of when she asked us not to wreck these costumes.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ignis answers, feigning innocence. “She did say she’d understand if we had to discharge our weapons whilst wearing them.”

Gladio closes his eyes, his head tilted back so his face is masked by the shadows. “You’re hilarious, you know that, right?”

Ignis smiles to himself, but ultimately extricates his hand from Gladio's clothing. With Gladio’s eyes still closed, Ignis allows himself to indulge in some uncharacteristic poor manners and stare at this study in perfection. Every now and again he plays a game with himself where he tries to choose which is Gladio’s best feature and he fails every time because it’s simply impossible to isolate one when the sum of these parts is so exquisite.

Gladio opens his eyes again as Ignis's hands chart a course up to his face. As his fingers edge around Gladio's jawline, tracing the neat boundary of his beard, Ignis finds himself held by that warm amber gaze. Watching. Assessing. A smile plays at Gladio's lips, the expression in response to whatever he can see in Ignis's face. They don’t often speak of love, but the sentiment is a thread that runs through every other facet of their interactions. They both know it as well as they know the terrain of each other's bodies.

Soon, he finds his own face cupped by Gladio's strong hands. Gladio’s thumb strokes his cheek, once, twice before a gentle pressure draws him forwards. Their lips meet; it’s an awkward kiss because they’re both still smiling, and they laugh softly, foreheads touching. After a moment, Gladio sighs.

“We finally get to be alone and we can’t even do anything.” He rolls his eyes. “We've been cockblocked by a goddamned building.”

Ignis laughs, unable to think of anything to say that will mitigate the grievous injury to Gladio's pride on this occasion.

“Soon as this festival's over, we're gettin' our own damned room at The Leville,” Gladio grumbles.

Ignis presses another kiss to those perfect full lips.

“I think our coffers can run to that,” he murmurs in a tone that says _exactly_ what he thinks of the idea of Noct and Prompto installed in separate lodgings, even if only for a night. “But for now I’m afraid it’s dark, dusty hiding holes for us.”

His comment succeeds in making Gladio laugh, a sign that he’s grudgingly accepted that they’re not gonna see any action in this glorified closet space. He pats Ignis's cheek affectionately. “You take me to all the best places, Iggy.”

“Needs must when Ifrit drives, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah? He better or worse than Prompto?”

“On a par.” Ignis hesitates. “I believe they’re both fans of _burning rubber_.”

Gladio gapes for a moment, then groans loudly. “Oh, man. That's bad, even for you, Iggy.”

Ignoring him, Ignis gestures to the door. “We should make a move. It sounds like the coast is clear.”

They ease the door open carefully, relieved to discover the MT has gone. After a few paces in silence Gladio says, “I thought at the very least you’d have gone with something about a _hot rod_.”

“What?”

“Or maybe something about them both being keen to _fire up_ the Regalia?”

“Oh, good grief,” Ignis says, covering his eyes and shaking his head although he’s trying not to laugh.

“Come on.” Gladio reaches for Ignis's hand, his smile floating in the darkness as they start to walk. “Let's go home.”

The MT is long gone and they don’t encounter anymore as they weave through the darkened streets back to their hotel. Maybe their luck will hold out a little longer and they’ll arrive back at The Leville to find Noct and Prompto have decided to indulge in the festival for a little while longer so they can finish what they started.

Either that, or the other two will both be asleep and he and Ignis can put the assassins to shame by showing them what _stealth_ really is.

  
**End**

 

 

 

 

 


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